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- [Poem II]
- Adrienne Rich
- I wake up in your bed. I know I have been dreaming.
- Much earlier, the alarm broke us from each other,
- you’ve been at your desk for hours. I know what I dreamed:
- our friend the poet comes into my room
- where I’ve been writing for days,
- drafts, carbons, poems are scattered everywhere,
- and I want to show her one poem
- which is the poem of my life. But I hesitate,
- and wake. You’ve kissed my hair
- to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,
- I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . .
- and I laugh and fall dreaming again
- of the desire to show you to everyone I love,
- to move openly together
- in the pull of gravity, which is not simple,
- which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air.
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